Silas Bennett'S Imperfect Season by Curt Munson

Author:Curt Munson [Munson, Curt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781546242956
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Published: 2018-06-29T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

CARLOS GONZALES AND PARKER JUSTICE

I

302 Academy Street

Stanton, Ok.

October 8, 1966

Saturday,

10:40 am

On Saturday morning, Steve and I were on our stilts and Phil was making the gritty compound we used to texture the ceiling and substituting the refreshed palettes back up to us when we finished a previous one.

“I have a proposal,” he said.

“OK,” I responded.

“State college is playing at home today and I have three tickets. Let’s go to the game.”

“Am I included?” Steve wanted to know.

“You won’t take money any more, it is the least I can do.”

“Man, I want to go!”

“Me too,” I agreed.

Kick-off was at 2 pm. At noon I told Steve and Phil I was knocking off for the day so I could go see Coach at the hospital. Steve said he wanted to go too. We got cleaned up for the game and Phil drove us to the city’s small hospital.

When I checked in with the nurses station at the ICU, the nurse told us only family would be allowed in to see him.

“Has any family come in?” I asked.

“Not yet,” she acknowledged.

“Coach’s wife died a long time ago,” Steve said, “he doesn’t have any kids except us. Can you ask him if he’ll see us?”

She looked at us for a long time, finally she stood and left the desk and consulted with a guy wearing a lab coat. She returned a minute later and said, “The Doctor says one of you may go see him, who is it to be?”

Steve pointed at me and I followed the nurse. She led me to a small curtained off cubicle. When she pulled the curtain back I could see Coach in the bed with an oxygen mask, a drip in his arm and behind him a monitor beeped keeping track of his heart beats.

“Hey, Coach,” I said as gently as I could.

Coach opened his eyes and smiled wanly. “Man, Silas, I’m glad to see you. This is the most boring place on earth.”

“What are the doctors telling you?”

“They say I’m gonna’ live forever,” he replied, “of course it’ll be either in this world or the next.” He chuckled at his own joke. I tried to smile but I’m not sure I was successful.

“Steve’s here too, but only one of us could come in. Is there family you’d like me to contact?”

“My sister lives in New York state,” he answered, “she’s all I got left. We notified her last night, but she can’t get here til tomorrow. I’m awfully appreciative of you, Silas.”

I was basically trying not to cry. “Hey,” he said, “this isn’t the end of me. I’ll be back at practice before you know it. Take that to the bank.”

“I’ll tell the others, Coach.” He smiled wanly.

We sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “I been working with young men my whole life. I started in Golden Gloves when I was younger than you, then the few professional fights I had, the army, and teaching and coaching. My wife and I wanted kids, but you Tigers were the only ones God ever gave me.

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